PS 3515 
.024 P6 
1912 
Copy 1 







Poems 

= o/ = 

David Dillard 

Haggard 




Topeka 

Crane fcr* Company 

1912 



S^S 






Copyright 1912 
By David Dillard Hatftfard 



All rights reserved 



©CIA3;30209 



To 

My Wife 



ilaggarb'g ^oemsi 



THE TOILER 

Out in the glare and the heat of the sun, 
The toiler works till the day is done. 
No thought has he of weariness, pain, — 
What right has he to halt or complain 
When the loved ones at home are hungry 

and sad, 
And the wage of a day will make them so 

glad ? 

Down in the mine, the earth for his mat. 
Burrows forever, the miner, a rat. 
Why should he long for the sunshine above, 
Why should he think of brotherhood, love? 
When the children at home are hungry and 

sick. 
Why think of aught save the coal, and the 

pick ? 



Jlaggarb's ^oems 



There in the factory, hideous tomb, 
Stands the wan girl beside the great loom. 
Why should she dream of the children at 

play? 
When she must toil on, day after day. 
To gain the small pittance so grudgingly 

paid — 
A bribe to her virtue — God pity the maid! 

Each of them toiled 'neath the whip of dis- 
tress, 

That food, warmth, and clothing, others 
might bless. 

While they remained hungry, cold, and half 
clad; 

Is it strange they 're rebellious, desperate, 
mad? 

But the greed of the few wants its tribute 
of gold 

Though the groans of the toiler rise up from 
the mold. 



Page 6\ 



Ilassarb'si ^aemg 



A SAD OCCURRENCE DUE TO THE 
HIGH COST OF LIVING 

He Asked Too Much. 

There was a man I knew quite well 

Who had an only son, 
Whose only thought on earth it seemed 

Was how to spend the "mon." 
"I want," said he, "a diamond pin, 

A watch and Rah-rah coat, 
A suit of silken underwear, 

A phonograph, and boat.'* 

"I want," said he, "a banjo, too, 

A necktie and a ring; 
I want a harp and aeroplane 

To fly upon the wing; 
I also want a racing horse, 

A touring car and wine. 
To have a sporty time, you know, 

With several friends of mine." 

"I want, old man," said he, one day, 
"The dearest thing on earth; 

I know that you will give it me. 
Although there is a dearth : 



[Page 7 



llassarir'S ^oemS 



I want some meat, old man," he cried, 
*'And will not be denied." 

The father screamed in terror, and 
Fell down, and promptly died. 



THE SWEETEST MUSIC 

I have listened to the magic 

Of the Mock bird on the wing, 
As he poured forth liquid music, 

Making field and forest ring; 
But his song is not one half as sweet, 

Although it has beguiled, — 
As the prattle of a baby, 

Or the laughter of a child. 

I have listened to the great of earth 

As their hands swept o'er the keys, 
And been captured by the music 

Of their wondrous melodies; 
But their songs, they do not move me, 

(Though they oft are strange and wild,) 
Like the prattle of a baby. 

Or the laughter of a child. 

Page 8] 



^ass^trb'S ^oemfi 



I sometimes think that Heaven 

Will not be one half complete, 
Unless beneath the tree of life, 

Or on the golden street, 
We can hear the old, old music, 

That on earth so reconciled, — 
The sweet prattle of a baby, 

Or the laughter of a child. 



MAMMY'S ROSE 

She's de sweetes' pickanniny 

Evah bo'n in 01' Virgini— 

An she's jes' as cute as cute kin be ; 
She's got de blackes' eyes 
An' she looks so awfu' wise 

When she lays an looks at me. 

She's got de li'les' feet, 

An' she t'inks dey's good to eat— 

Foh she offen put 'em in huh mouf , 
But dere ain't no use a-talkin' — 
Dere ain't a baby walkin' 

Like my baby, Norf er Souf . 



[Page 9 



You had otah see huh winkin' — 

Huh great big eyes a bUnkin', 

When she hoi's huh ban's up to huh pa. 

O, she's awfu', awfu' bright 

Ef she is a H'le mite — 
An' she's goin' to look jes' like huh ma*. 

She's huh mammy's li'le rose, — 

She's got de flattes' nose 

An' de bigges' mouf you evah did see, — 
But she's jest as sweet as honey, 
An' dere ain't no 'mount of money 
Kin buy dis li'le flowah from me. 



THE COMMON HERD 

A ship was wrecked at sea last night, 

And all were saved, we're told. 
Except the men beneath the decks. 

The stokers, in the hold. 
Of their brave death, the press said naught, 

No, not a single word. 
What does it matter? They don't count, — 

They belong to the common herd. 

Page W] 



?|assarb'« ^oems! 



They say a train was wrecked last night ; 

The money loss was great, 
The train that went into the ditch 

Was filled with costly freight. 
The trainmen all escaped, 'tis said; 

A laborer — they inferred — 
Was found beneath the wreckage, dead,- 

One of the common herd. 

A factory was burned today, — 

The officers were saved. 
The money loss was such a sum 

The owners cursed and raved. 
Some boys and girls were burned to death- 

The sight a few men stirred : 
What does it matter .^^ To lose a few — 

Those of the common herd. 

God bless the common herd of men, 

God bless them every one ; 
They are the heroes of the earth. 

Their task is never done. 
They struggle on beneath the goad 

Of penury for aye ; 
While we draw back in haughty pride. 

Theirs, is the better clay. 



[Page 11 



?|asearb'« ^oemsi 



WHEN I GROW UP 

When I grow up an get to be a man 

I think p'raps I'll be 
A pirate man, an' have a great big ship 

An' sail upon the sea. 
I'll capture lots of boats, an' take their gold, 

(An someday, start a bank.) 
An' when I capture 'em, if they don't mind, 

I'll make 'em walk the plank. 

When I grow up I think I'd rather be 

A street-car motor-man, 
For he has lots of fun : he jus' sits still 

An' turns a crank, an' 
Away he goes, jus' like a streak of light ; 

An' if the folks don't hump, 
An' get out of the way, an' clear the track. 

He scares 'em with a bump. 

Say — I don't know, but when I get grow'd up 

I think I'll go out West 
An' be a scout like Mr. Buffalo Bill, 

An' ride aroun', and hunt 
Wild buffaloes and bears, day after day. 

An' chase the Indians, too; 
An' if ever I capture one of 'em 

I'll shoot him. Wouldn't you? 

Page 12] 



Say — I don't know but what I'd like to be 

A p'liceman in a town, 
An' wear a nice stiff hat, an' pretty suit of 
blue, 

An' jus' walk round. 
An' p'licemen carry a pistle, an' a club ; 

When they gets on your trail 
You've got to do jus' vv^hat they say, or else 

They'll make you go to jail. 

Say — I don't b'li've I want to grow up big, 

An' be a man like you. 
For when a person gets as big as that, 

They has so much to do. 
I think I'd rather not grow up at ail, — 

That wouldn't be much joy : 
I'd rather always be jus' like I am, — 

An' be my mamma's boy. 



LIFT YOUR BROTHER UP 

When some dear friend a misstep makes 

And gives away to sin, 
Don't point the finger of rebuke, — 

That's not the way to win. 

[Page 13 



^assatt'i ^oems 



He all alone must drink the cup 
Of shame and wretchedness, — 

Forgive, forget, the sinful act, 
Reach down your hand 

And lift your brother up. 

When some dear friend has lost his grip 

And falters in the way. 
And seems to think that God is dead, 

And there's no use to pray. 
He all alone must drink the cup 

Of doubt and loneliness. 
Oh, do not chide the doubting one, — 

Reach down your hand 
And lift your brother up. 

When some dear friend has lost his all, 

His health, his money, friends. 
And rails at God for all his ills, 

And then his act defends, 
No one but he can drink the cup 

Of bitterness and tears. 
We all are frail : forgive, forget, — 

Reach down your hand 
And lift your brother up. 



Page I4] 



laggarb'g ^oemS 



MUD PIES 

Some girls I know, most every night 
They play go hide-and-seek; 

They gets so hot they catches cold, 
An' then can't hardly speak. 

Some other girls plays blindman's buff, — 

I think that lots more fun, 
For sometimes when you're almost caught, 

You can dodge, and run. 

I'll tell you what I really think 

Is most fun 'neath the skies, 
That's to sit down, right in the road. 

An' make some nice mud pies. 

You take at first a pile of dust 

An' pour some water in it. 
Then stir it till it's nice and thick, — 

It won't take but a minute. 

You take it next up in your hands 

An' shape it till it's done. 
An' then you put it on a board 

An' bake it in the sun. 



[Page 15 



ilags^rb'si ^oems 



A MESS OF POTTAGE 

Oh, give me a mess of pottage, I pray ! 

Fame is so sweet and so rare, 
I will pay you the price, tho' the charge you 
may make 

Will fill my heart with despair ; — 
The pottage is eaten, — Fame has been 
bought, 

And he has accomplished his goal. 
But affection is gone, — what a terrible cost ! 

For he has bartered his soul. 

Oh, give me a mess of pottage, I pray ! 

My hunger for gold is a lust. 
I love it! I love it! I'll pay you the price, 

Tho' I starve for the want of a crust ; — 
The pottage is eaten, — alone in his rags 

Sits the miser with empty bowl, — 
He purchased his sop at a perilous price, 

For he has bartered his soul. 

Oh, give me a mess of pottage, I pray, 
The pottage of passion and sense ; 

I will pay you the cost, tho' the price you 
may ask 
Is my health, and innocence; — 

Page 16] 



ilagsarb'g ^oems 



The pottage is eaten, — a life is debauched. 

And sin has taken its toll, 
For shame and disgrace stare the man in the 
face, 

For he has bartered his soul. 



THE SAILOR'S RETURN 

The tide is ebbing far out in the sea, 
Good-bye, my lover, good-bye; 
Go forth to your boat with a song in your 

throat 
And a heart as merry as merry can be, 
With the thought that I am waiting and 
watching for thee : 
Good-bye, my lover, good-bye. 

The tempest is raging far out on the sea, 

Beware! my lover, beware! 
The lightning is flashing, — the waves high 

are dashing, — 
The wind is howling with devilish glee : 
May God in his mercy keep. watch over 
thee. 
Come back, my lover, come back. 

[Page 17 



Ilagsarb'si ^oems 



The tide is flowing far in on the shore, 

Sail ho! my lover, sail ho! 
The waves they are swinging, — my heart 
it is singing, — 
The voyage is over, the ship is at rest. 
And I am held close on my sailor-boy's 
breast. 
Thank God! my lover, my lover. 



GIVE HIM A SMILE 

As you pass along, if a man you meet 
Adown life's bustling street, 

Don't look askance 

Or give him a glance 
As if he's not worth knowing ; 

But give him your hand 

And give him a smile, — 
'T will set his heart a-glowing. 

The man you meet has burdens to bear, 
Sorrows he cannot share. 

Don't turn him down 

With a look or a frown. 

Page 18] 



's Boems 



Or words that are cold or stinging ; 
But give him your hand 
And give him a smile, — 

'T will set his heart-bells ringing. 

The one you meet is a brother man 
Don't put him under ban, 

With magic art 

You can win his heart, 
And with kindness you can capture ; 

So give him your hand 

And give him a smile, — 
'T will fill his heart with rapture. 



INFLUENCE 

Oft hast thou seen a pebble cast 

Into some tranquil stream, 
And as it sank into its depths 

With bright but transient gleam, 
Eddies arose, which circling round 

Grew larger as they went. 
Until at length on distant shores 

Their subtile force was spent. 



[Page 19 



Haggarb'si ^oemsi 



So is the influence of each soul 
Dropped in life's mighty sea, — 

Its eddies rise, and are not spent, 
Short of Eternity. 

The words that fall from lips of men 

From day to day, impart 
A healing balm to wounded souls. 

Or poison to the heart. 
Each act that you or I may do 

Will lift men up toward God, 
Or it will drag them down to earth 

And soil them with its clod. 
This life is but a segment of 

The vast Eternity. 
Each kindly act or word of ours 

Is of Divine maternity. 



A HAMMOCK SONG 

'Neath a bower of beauty clinging 
In a hammock swinging, swinging, 
See a maiden watch the gate — 
Oh, how hard for love to wait! 



Page 20] 



ilassatb'S ^oems 



In her hand a four-leaf clover. 
She is looking for her lover. 

See her swing 

Hear her sing 
"Douglas, tender and true." 

Hark ! The birds are piping now, 
Clinging to the perfumed bough. 
And the blossoms white and red 
Fall in showers on her head. 
In her hand a four-leaf clover 
She is watching for her lover. 

See her swing 

Hear her sing, 
"Douglas, tender and true." 

But at last, a sound is heard. 
Sweeter far than song of bird, — 
'Tis the clicking of the gate. 
Oh, how hard for love to wait! 
In her hand a four-leaf clover. 
Comes at last, her own true lover. 

Half affrighted, 

Yet delighted. 
She looks up into his eyes. 

See her now, as bends above her. 
In affection, her dear lover. 



[Page 21 



^laggarb'sJ ^oemsi 



Lo, he takes the four-leaf token, — 
Shall I tell what words were spoken? 
But they do not discompose her. 
As he holds her closer, closer. 

Who can tell 

What magic spell 
Binds their hearts as one together? 

WHY DOST THOU WORRY SO? 

Why dost thou worry so, my heart? 
Canst not keep back the tears that start? 
Canst thou not trust the Eternal God ? 
Beneath the cold and lifeless sod 
The dainty flowers e'en now are growing. 
Despite the storm and chill winds blowing, 
And soon they'll push above the clod 
And waft their fragrance up to God. 

Why dost thou worry so, my soul ? 
Canst thou not read life's blotted scroll, 
All dimmed and stained with bitter tears, 
Through many long and dreary years? 
Hope thou in God, — tho' dark today, 
Tomorrow's sun will clear the way. 
Waste not life's day in sad repining, — 
Above life's storm Heaven's sun is shining. 

Page 22] 



Haggarb's ^oems 



SAY, WHAT'S THE USE? 

Say, — what's the use of givin' up 

An' droppin' out the chase, 
An' lettin' some one not so good 

Step in and take your place? 
It ain't the one that talks the most 

That sets the fastest pace, 
But it's the man with sand and grit, 

That always wins life's race. 

Say, — what's the use of lookin' down 

An' feelin' all put out, 
If things don't go just as you wish, — 

Why, brother man, don't pout, — 
But lift your face up to the sun 

An' drink its glories in. 
Then set your teeth, roll up your sleeves. 

An' once again begin. 

We can't expect that everything 

In this 'ere world of ours. 
Will go or be just as we want. 

All sunshine, or all flowers ; 
For we shall see the cloud sometimes, 

An' sometimes feel the rain ; 
Of disappointment, drink the cup, 

As well as suffer pain. 

[Page 23 



Ilaggarb's ^oemS 



PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE 

We surely would not point the finger of 
scorn 

At a man who is steeped in disgrace, 
If we could by trick or magic or art 

Put ourself in his place. 

It is true he has sinned, and he's much to be 
blamed. 
But you are not the Judge in the case ; 
If you're tempted to slander, or rail at his 
deed, 
Put yourself in his place. 

You cannot help men by berating their sins. 
You cannot reform with a mace; 

They are weak, you are strong, — to help 
them along. 
Put yourself in their place. 

This world is too full of sorrow and tears 
To drag a man down, or debase; 

Don't do it, my friend, — be like Christ when 
on earth, — 
Put yourself in his place. 



Page 24] 



ilaggarb's ^otmi 



THE GREATEST LOSS 

I lost my purse, the other day, 

It had some money in it, 
It made my heart seem very sad. 

For just about a minute. 

I lost my health, the other day. 
It caused me much more sorrow, 

For I have learned through many years 
Good health you cannot borrow. 

I lost a friend, the other day, 

My grief cannot be told. 
For friendship, is so rare a thing, 

It can't be bought with gold. 



DO IT NOW 

I love the rose, the matchless rose, 

So exquisite, so bright. 
Its beauty fills my soul with joy, 

Its perfume with delight. 
If you have roses, gifts of love. 

To lay upon my bier, 
I wish you would not wait till then, — 

I want them now, and here. 

[Page 25 



Jlaggarb'si poemsi 



We have so many cares on earth, 

It's easy to forget 
That hearts are hungering for love,- 

But someday, we'll regret. 
If j^ou have words of love to speak 

When I have passed away, 
I wish you would not wait till death,- 

But say them now, today. 

We have so many things to do, 

We leave the best undone ; 
The thing we planned at once to do 

Is left till set of sun. 
If you'd perform a loving act, 

Wait not till death draws near. 
But do the loving deed at once 

And fill some heart with cheer. 



THE CITY OF DREAMS 

Far away in the land of tomorrow, I'm told. 
Lies the beautiful city of dreams. 

Where the sun never darkens, or night ever 
comes, 
Or the light of a firefly gleams. 

Page 26] 



?|agsarb's( ^oemg 



Oh, the city of dreams is a beautiful place, 
With its streets so golden and bright, 

Where the laughter of children, and music of 
birds, 
Thrill the soul with joy and delight. 

Beside the great gates which are wonderful 
pearls, 
Stand a throng clad in garments of white, 
Who are watching and waiting to welcome 
us there 
As we enter the city of light. 

No sorrow ever enters the city of dreams, 

No pain or disease can invade. 
All tears have been banished, and death is 
unknown. 

And none can be sad or afraid. 

Oh, it's a beautiful city, the city of dreams. 
In the land of tomorrow above, — 

Where forever there sits on the throne of his 
might 
Our God, who is infinite love. 



[Page 27 



llaggarb'S ^oemS 



PROCRASTINATION 

The sky is purpling in the east, 

Bright herald of another precious day, 

In which I may by word or deed 

Help those who falter in life's deadly fray. 

The sun pours down with burning heat, 
Which warns me that the hours are speed- 
ing by,— 

If I would help someone today, 
I must begin at once, — the moments fly. 

The sun is sinking in the west, — 

The day has been so short — a moment's 
span — 
It passed away, while I have dreamed, — 
I've nothing done, to help my brother 
man. 



Page 28] 



?|assarb'S ^oems^ 



THE MUSIC OF THE RAIN 

For days the sun has burned with furnace 
heat, 
The sky is burnished brass ; 
All day the scorching, blistering wind has 
blown, 
And blighted flower and grass. 

The birds are hushed and silent in their 
nests, 
The bees have left the pink ; 
No sound the funeral stillness breaks, ex- 
cept 
The low of kine for drink. 

The night comes on at last, and we retire. 

Exhausted with the day ; 
We drop upon the bed, and fall asleep, — 

Too worn and tired to pray. 

We waken from our sleep toward break of 
day, 

Aroused by dash of rain. 
Which beats, now on the roof above our head. 

And on the window-pane. 

[Page 29 



ilaggarb's ^oemg 



The storm increases as the hours go by, 

And from the parch 'd leaves. 
The rain pours down in streamlets on the 
ground, 

And from the flooded eaves. 

How sweet the music of the falling rain! 

Our hearts with gratitude 
Are filled ; and we repeat the prayer forgot, 

And add, "Our God is good." 



TODAY IS MINE 

Yesterday came in beauteous garb. 
And, like a witch of the night. 

She beckoned me to follow her, 
And vanished from my sight. 

Tomorrow is a fickle lass ; 

I may woo her, in vain, 
For she may never call to me, 

But treat me with disdain. 



Page 30] 



Jlaggarb's ^oems 



Today is mine, — I hold her fast, 
Rain kisses on her brow ; 

In all the vast Eternity 
All that I have, is now. 



ON JUDEA'S QUIET PLAIN 

On Judea's quiet plain, 
By night, the shepherds watched their silent 
flocks. 

The moon did wax and wane, 
And left them in the shadow of the rocks 

Which towered above their heads 
And rose majestic o'er their mossy beds. 

The morning dawn was near. 
The darkest hour before the morning ray; 

But hark! A sound they hear. 
And suddenly the darkness flees away. 

While overhead is seen 
A light, which rivals day itself in sheen. 

[Page 31 



^lasB^tb's ^oems 



Astonished, and in fear, 
The trembling shepherds fall upon the 
sward, — 

And now there cometh near, 
One to proclaim the birth of Christ the Lord. 

"Oh, be ye not afraid — 
I bring you tidings of great joy," he said. 

" For unto you is born. 
This day, a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord. 

Rejoice this glorious morn; 
A sign I give to you to prove my word, 

The holy babe," he said, 
"In Bethlehem lies, a manger is his bed." 

And now a heavenly choir 
Surround the angelic messenger of Peace, 

And all with harp and lyre 
Join in the matchless song which ne'er shall 
cease, 

" Glory to God on High, 
And Peace on earth, good- will to men," 
they cry. 



Page S2] 



?|a5S^tb's( ^oemfl! 



THE RAG DOLL 

She sat within the open door, 
My dream-child, just to rest ; 

And as she hummed a lullaby 

She hugged a rag doll to her breast. 

She heard a noise not far away, 

And childlike, rushed out in the street, 

To see a team now past control 

Come bearing down with flying feet. 

Confused, she turned and fell, — a cry, 
A scream, the passer-by alarms; 

He picks her up with streaming eyes, 
The rag doll still is in her arms. 

The crape now hangs upon the door ; 

Within the casket, now at rest, 
My dream-child lies. The old rag doll 

Is still clutched to the loving breast. 



[Page S3 



Jlaggarb'g ^oemS 



MOTHER 

I remember, oh, how often. 

When a very little child, 
How my mother took me in her lap 

And petted me, and smiled; 
And as the shadows gathered 

She would draw me closer still. 
And I'd give a sigh of comfort. 

Knowing naught could do me ill. 

I remember, oh, so often. 

After years had passed away. 
How her steps began to falter. 

Growing feebler day by day; 
And her hair, once like the raven, 

Now was streaked with threads of white, 
And I knew before the springtime 

She would pass from mortal sight. 

I remember, oh, how often. 

When at last she took her bed, — 
And the day — the hour — the moment — 

That they whispered, "She is dead." 
Gone from earth scenes is my mother, 

But her memory's sweet to me, 
And I know that up in Heaven 

She's from pain and sorrow free. 

Page 34] 



ilaggarb'si ^otmi 



A SUMMER DAY 

The glowing sun is shining down, 
AUke on quiet vale and town ; 
No sound is heard from sleepy trees, 
No hum is heard from drowsy bees. 
The droning brook is almost still. 
While far above the topmost hill 
The fleecy clouds float lazily. 
Like foam upon a placid sea. 

The wheat is silent, and the corn 

Is listless, tho' 'tis early morn; 

No chirp of crickets can be heard, 

No cry or sound of restless bird. 

The leaves hang down their drooping heads. 

The flowers are still in their downy beds, 

And all is peace, for rest holds sway, — 

It is a Kansas summer day. 



[Page 35 



^ass^t^'^ ^oemsJ 



PATRIOTIC SONG 

"We'll Never Haul the Old Flag Down." 

What! haul the old flag down, you say, 

That banner of the free. 
Which floats with such majestic grace 

Upon the land and sea. 
The glorious flag, beneath whose stars 

Our patriot fathers stood, 
Amid the shock and din of war. 

And sealed it with their blood. 

What ! haul the old flag down, you say, 

That ensign of the brave 
Which floats from highest battlement 

Or o'er a hero's grave. 
We'll never haul the trophy down ; 

We love each fold and line. 
And ready stand to die for it. 

Our nation's flag, and mine. 

What! haul the old flag down, you say. 

That emblem of the true. 
Whose matchless stars forever shine 

Upon its sky of blue. 

Page S6] 



llasB^tb'g 3^otmi 



Its brilliant hues shall never fade, 
Its silken folds be furled, 

Until the red, the white and blue 
Is honored 'round the world. 

Chorus: 

We'll never haul the old flag down. 

Or trail it in the dust ; 
Our cause it is a righteous one, 

In God we put our trust. 
'Tis but a dirty silken rag. 

Our enemies may say. 
But when our flag is raised aloft, 

It's put aloft to stay. 



[Page 37 



DEC 10 1912 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



015 898 544 5 



